


Drawing from Memory

by storyandshark



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Light Angst, Probably inaccurate portrayal of how to do art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 00:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16882176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyandshark/pseuds/storyandshark
Summary: When Melanie first agreed to meet Jon when he was on the run, she asked him to tell her everything. To tell her about Sasha. Now he has a request for her, specifically about the person only Melanie truly remembers.





	Drawing from Memory

Being an informer for a suspected murderer is not nearly as exciting as Melanie thought it would be. From getting stabbed by a train ghost and then shot by a war ghost, all of Melanie's work at the Magnus Institute has been an intensity downgrade, and doing Jon's research for him is no exception. She didn't think it would be fun, because Jon is a massive asshole, but she at least thought that maybe something vaguely cool might happen. He's mostly asked for stuff about circuses and mannequins, which isn't interesting so much as just plain weird. Jon thinks it's important though, and considering all the bizarre shit both of them have dealt with, Melanie isn't inclined to doubt him. Still, the boringness of their usual meetings makes it all the more surprising when Jon changes something up.

Normally he doesn't bring anything. She told him not to bring the tape recorder after the first time, and he actually seems to have cooperated. If he's hiding it in his pocket or something, then Melanie doesn't know it's there and can safely believe it's not. This time, as he sits down at the café table that they normally meet up at, he's brought something else with him. Melanie almost doesn't notice for a second, because she's trying to come up with a comment about how stupid he looks in an oversized sweatshirt with the hood up like that, but the second she notices the pencils and paper he's put down on the table, that comment evaporates.

“What's this for?” she asks.

He ignores her. “Did you find the statement I needed?”

She groans and roots around in her purse, pulling out a couple folded pieces of paper. “Yep. One statement about some creepy haunted mannequin, check. Now, what's the paper for?”

“Oh, I- I was getting to that.” He puts the statement in the large pocket of his sweatshirt. “Do you know how to draw?”

Melanie scrunches her eyebrows and tries to figure out what the hell that could mean. “I dunno. I took some art classes back in school, I guess.”

He pushes the pencils and paper on the table toward her. “Can you... can you draw what Sasha looked like? The real one?”

Melanie's mind reels. “What?”

“Sasha. I... the thing that took her, it changed her face. I don't remember what she looked like. No one does. Except for you, apparently.”

“Yes, you told me. Why now?”

He sighs deeply, running a hand over his face, knocking his glasses slightly askew. “I was looking into what... what killed her. NotThem. I think it's part of what I'm researching, part of the Stranger. I still don't know what the real Sasha looked like, so I thought that maybe…” He trails off, nods his head at the package of pencils.

She almost wants to reject him. This is a waste of her time. He's already got her acting like one of his assistants; she doesn't need this piled on top of it. Hell, maybe he's doing this as some sort of joke, or testing her in some weird way to see what she'll do if he asks. But when she looks up at his face, she changes her mind. He looks serious enough, although that is mostly what he looks like all the time. He also looks exhausted, completely unkempt, like he hasn't been sleeping at all. He looks pitiful, especially combined with his questionable choice of apparel.

So she shrugs and says, “Sure, I guess. Don't get used to me doing stuff like this though.”

“Of course not. It's just... For Sasha.”

She nods. “Yeah. For Sasha.”

She opens the package of pencils. They're pretty nice, actually, and she wonders how much Jon spent on them. Wonders if he bought them at all, considering he's currently wanted for murder. She lines them all up above her paper, then selects the one she needs and starts to draw.

She's never been great at realistic portraits, but she tries her best. And, she figures with a dark sort of humor, no one will be able to tell if she gets it wrong. It's even harder without a reference picture, but she'll have to make do without one, considering none of them exist anymore. She struggles with the basic sketch, the lines of Sasha's head, but once she gets back into her rhythm, she has it down. It's therapeutic, really, and she would maybe like to pick drawing up again. She would, if the only things in her brain all the time weren't the terrible things in those statements she's read.

Time passes, but Melanie doesn't feel it. She loses herself in her drawing, going back into the depths of her mind to try and remember what the real Sasha looked like. It takes her a few tries to get the shape of her eyes right, and she just can't quite get the nose. The shading is rough, and the linework is a little sloppy, but the drawing shapes itself under Melanie's fingers almost on its own. She forms Sasha's hair, her cheekbones, her mouth, all the little details of her face, trying her hardest to make it look right. She wants to do Sasha justice. She didn't deserve to be forgotten.

Eventually, Melanie finishes the drawing. She sets the pencil down and leans back, licking her thumb and trying to rub off the graphite smeared across her hand. The drawing isn't quite right, but it's close. Very close. Melanie didn't even know she could draw like that anymore. It's not like all the artists say, not like Sasha is almost ready to come alive out of the drawing (she's been dead a while, after all, killed by some terrible thing deep in the Archives), but Melanie can see Sasha on the page and feels a small pang in her chest. She didn't know Sasha, had only really seen her once, but still. She should have gotten better.

Jon breathes in shakily, gingerly picking up the piece of paper to look at it. He just stares at it for a while, as if he hadn't already been watching Melanie the entire time she'd been drawing it.

“This is Sasha?” he asks, as if that wasn't specifically who he'd told her to draw.

“Yeah,” she replies, willing herself not to roll her eyes.

Jon stares a moment longer, then puts the paper back down in front of Melanie. He clears his throat, tries to compose himself. “I... thank you, Melanie.”

“Better than you asking me to read statements about clowns,” she quips.

“Yes,” he says, standing up from his chair. “Yes, it probably is.”

“Alright. We done here?”

“Unless you have anything to add.” She stands, starts to gather her things, but stops when she hears Jon say, “Wait.”

“What now?”

“Could you show it to Tim? And to Martin? I think... They should know about her. About what she looked like.”

“Sure thing.”

“And don't tell them that I was here. I don't want to get them involved too.”

This time she doesn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Don't be paranoid, Jon.”

He just smiles wearily as a response, then turns and walks out into the crowd. Melanie sighs looks at all the stuff he left on the table. She puts the pencils into her purse, then folds up the spare paper and puts those in there too. She doesn't fold up the drawing, not wanting to smear it and ruin it. She just clutches it to her chest, as if it's the most precious thing in the world. Maybe it is. It's all that's left of the real Sasha, all that's left of a person who is all but erased from the world without it. Melanie is the only person in the entire world who knows the real Sasha's face, and she's going to make sure that this one tiny piece that remains isn't lost too.

 


End file.
